


Sandstar’s lives.

by Queen_Clem



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 01:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Clem/pseuds/Queen_Clem
Summary: WEEE WOOO: heya there, I don’t recommend reading this if you have not read my other fanfiction “A small flame” as this will make zero sense and confuse you.That being said, to those who have read the other one: Sandstar angst while she gets her nine lives and reflects on her sister.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Sandstar’s lives.

Sandstorm breathed lightly, taking in the cool air of the moor as she bounded across it’s springy grass. 

Starlight shone down on her and Brackenfur as they stealthy raced across Windclan territory, towards high stones.

Tonight, Sandstorm would become leader of Thunderclan.

Her pulse quickened at the thought. She had never thought herself the leader type. In fact, she had always preferred being a warrior to any other duty.

There was honor in it, and it was a simple life. No one relied on her for huge decisions and the fate of the clan didn’t rest on her shoulders.

She would be lying to say the she was reluctant to take this position. Bluestar, Starclan rest her soul, had chosen her once her mind had begun to crumble from paranoia.

Her deputy ceremony had no cries of joy in it or congratulations. Cats had only stared solemnly at their paws, shook by the plot that had unfolded at Tigerstars and Firepools paws.

A thought drifted in the back of her mind. When she was a kit and apprentice, she’d always thought Firepool would’ve been a good leader. Though incredibly vulnerable, Firepool was quick to command and demanded respect from the cats below her rank.

Sandstorm squashed that thought from her mind. Quick to command but quick to murder as well.

Her sister had always been a crafty little thing. The glint of intelligence in her eye had bloomed during her first moons as an apprentice and never left. Her personality as a kit had been aloof but she was kind.

Sandstorm tried her hardest not to think it but she knew that it was being forced into the medicine den that had ruined her friend and littermate.

Her kind personality shattered the day she received the news and in it’s place grew an act that covered her hatred. She cooed to queens, nursed kits back to health, and weeped at the deaths of those she couldn’t save.

But she had a horrid heart at her core. 

She’d used her intelligence to kill and fight her way to what she wanted, uncaring of who got in her path, be it family, foe, or friend.

Those she had cried for had fallen to her own paw, those she cooed too became nothing more than pawns in her paws, and the kits she saved became her defense to accountability.

There was much Sandstorm still didn’t even know about when it came all the plots her sister had gotten tangled in, to the point where she had to wonder what else had driven her to commit her crimes beyond simple ambition.

Shaking her head, Sandstorm sighed lightly, trying to focus. The clan needed her to be strong. Firepool was long gone from the clan, none of it mattered anymore. Tonight was about her becoming leader of Thunderclan.

It had been such a tragedy. Their plan had been simple, just lead the dog pack back to Twolegplace where the strange creatures were searching for them.

But, as had been happening to her dear clan as of late, something had gone wrong. Brindleface, Sandstorms throat tightened, had tripped as she raced away from the dogs.

Runningwind had tried to save her but, in the end, both cats had perished to the pack.

Bluestar had arrived then and, with the last burst of strength in her elderly body, she had led the pack to Twolegplace on her own.

She’d tried to leap atop a fence to escape the pack while the blue-pelted Twolegs restrained the larger ones but she’d not been quick enough.

With one bite, the Thunderclan leader fell.

“Hurry,” Brackenfurs muzzle brushed her ear, “The moon waits for no one and we must be there before it rises to it’s highest point.”

Sandstorm swallowed as highstones came into sight. “Do you think they’ll accept me?” She mewed nervously as she climbed the stones beside her medicine cat.

He cut hard yellow eyes at her and snorted, “Of course.” He mewed as if she was being ridiculous, “You’re the deputy.”

Sandstorm flattened her ears a bit in offense but bit her tongue. Brackenfur had not had an easy apprenticeship, he deserved some grace.

Firepool had abandoned him when he was only half way done with his training, and left a wound that he never quite healed from. Some days, he hurt to watch from her side of the camp.

He tried to say he hated his former mentor, that she was a no good traitor but Sandstorm knew that he missed her dearly.

The medicine cat washed the same way Firepool had and, when he was annoyed, his attitude mimicked hers to the point it made Sandstorm uneasy. Even his laugh had the same rough, high-pitched, quality that his old mentor had on the rare occasions where she laughed.

Beyond all of that, though, she knew he missed her because she remembered a night not long ago where she had been awake with her anxiety about the clan.

Creeping to the edge of the warriors den, she had looked out to the stars for guidance. 

Brackenfur had caught her attention from the corner of her eye. The medicine cat was sitting outside his den, painted silver by the moonlight.

His yellow eyes were tired and sad, perhaps even a little lost as he had gazed at the enterance to camp. Beneath his left paw, he rolled around a faded and cracked pink shell.

Sandstorm had been confused at first. All warriors and apprentices were accounted for, they had to be ever since the pack had taken up residence at Snakerocks.

It had taken her until the next morning to realize who Brackenfur was waiting on to come home.

“I know I’m deputy, but Bluestar wasn’t in the best mind when she promoted me.” Sandstorm mewed, glancing at him as they stood before mothermouth.

A cold wind seeped from the cave, chilling her paws, and it’s yawning void seemed blacker than the all starless nights she’d ever seen.

Brackenfur looked down at her, having grown to stand as tall as his father Lionheart once had, and sighed out a long breath.

He seemed exasperated but sympathetic, “If Tigerstar of all cats was granted leadership, then I have no doubt you will be too.”

Sandstorm twitched at the name but nodded, “True, I suppose Starclan isn’t too picky.” She chuckled nervously.

Brackenfur didn’t respond for a moment before he changed the subject, “When we go past this point, you will not be allowed to speak.” He mewed, “When we reach the Moonstone, lay down and press your nose to it.”

Straightening her shoulders, Sandstorm nodded. Together, the two cats plunged into the darkness of Mouthermouth.

Immediately, the air changed. It was bitterly cold inside the tunnel as Sandstorm followed Brackenfurs tail down the winding path.

A sense of unease crept up her spine, even though she knew any spirit here was her friend. They were still spirits and that pricked her instincts to run from what her mind could not fully grasp.

The cool stone beneath her had nearly numbed her paws by the time she saw faint starlight begin to highlight Brackenfurs outline.

He suddenly trotted out into the cavern of the Moonstone, turning to look at her with his usual serious gaze. Lightly, he tipped his head towards the large stone protruding from the stone in the center of the cavern.

Sandstorms breath billowed out before her in a cloud of mist. With a jolt, she realized she was trembling.

Could she do this? Being leader didn’t feel as if it was her destiny but here, standing in the home of her ancestors, she didn’t think she had much of a choice any longer.

Suddenly, with a great flash of light, the moonstone burst into dazzling stars. The shadowed cavern filled with light, so bright that both she and Brackenfur had to narrow their eyes against it.

Silently, she stepped forward and laid down, pressing her nose against the glimmering stone.

In an instant, the light behind her eyes disappeared and she let out a silent howl of fear as the ground vanished beneath her.

She twisted and flipped in the air, scrabbling wildly for purchase before firm ground met her paws. With a gasp, she opened her eyes.

To her surprise, she no longer stood in the cold cavern of the Moonstone. Rather, a warm wind ruffled her fur in the center of Fourtrees.

Looking around, she breathed a sigh of relief as Brackenfur padded to stand a littleways behind her.

“I’m so glad you’re-!”

He cut her off, “Shhhh.” He whispered, raising one claw to point at the sky above them.

Sandstorm followed his gaze, her belly growing tight with nerves as she saw the sky was ablaze in swirling white flame.

The stars shifted together, winding down from the sky in bright light until, with a bright flash, Starclan stood before her.

Sandstorm swallowed hard, flicking her eyes around. The glimmering bodies of her ancestors lined the branches of the great oaks and filled the space around her.

Their piercing, glowing, eyes seemed to bore into her with judgement. Trembling, Sandstorm found herself nearly buckling under the weight of it.

“Welcome Sandstorm, are you ready to receive your nine lives?” The voice seemed to be a combination of all the voices she had ever known.

But, even though it left her uneasy, it still offered her leadership. The question soothed some of the tension in her shoulders. They accepted her.

“I am.” Her voice squeaked some, and she coughed, clearing her throat, “I am.” She mewed strongly.

From the dazzling ranks, a massive golden tom slipped forward. For a moment, Sandstorm didn’t recognize him.

It was only with the hitched breath of Brackenfur that she finally placed the now youthful face before her.

“Lionheart...” she breathed, looked up at the dead tom sadly. He had fallen in a battle against Shadowclan many moons ago.

The golden tom smiled at her gently, “Welcome, Sandstorm.” He mewed, touching his nose to her head, “With this life, I give you justice. Seek it out wherever it needs to be sought.”

Sandstorm hissed, her mind warping away from Starclan. With a sudden jolt, she felt agony over her body, racing along her veins and spilling out onto the cold ground below her.

A shadowed cat stood to the side of her and, desperately, she reached a paw out to them, begging for help.

The shadowed cat simply turned their head, looking away as her world flashed bright with stars. The agony within her mind was replaced with a deep sense of betrayal.

Gasping, Sandstorm was freed from the vision, “What was that?!” She mewed in panic, looking up at Lionheart.

The golden tom wasn’t looking at her, however. He stared behind her, at his son. His eyes spoke volumes of apologies and of pride, but he could voice none of them.

With his tail dragging, he turned and padded back into the starry ranks.

Sandstorm blinked as a lithe shape slipped from the crowd, nearly yowling with her grief as she recognized Runningwind. The young warrior who had died trying to save her mother.

He stood shorter than her, and had to stretch to reach her head, “With this life, I give you bravery.” He mewed.

Sandstorm felt bone chilling fear seep over her form, dripping from her fur and forcing a tremble in her paws.

Enemies rose around her, far larger and far meaner than she. At their paws crouched a shadowed cat, cowering. Even with fear in her heart, she still let out a yowl of rage, charging forward.

Clashing with the first enemy, the vision shattered and Sandstorm stood at Fourtrees once more.

Brindleface had replaced Runningwind, her green eyes soft with love as she smiled at her daughter. Her expression spoke of more pride than Sandstorm had ever felt within herself.

“I’m so sorry.” The words were tight in Sandstorms throat. She dipped her head low. It had been her plan that had gotten her very own mother slaughtered. 

It was her fault.

“It wasn’t.” Brindefaces voice was gentle and kind as she dipped her head to touch her nose to touch Sandstorms forehead.

“With this life, I give you love that knows no bounds.” She mewed, her voice cracking lightly.

Warmth flooded through Sandstorm. Opening her eyes, she blinked. The smell of the Thunderclan nursery filled her nose but she could not move her head to look around. She could not even move her eyes.

They were locked on two pitiful, featureless scraps, mewling loudly. 

The longer she stared at them, the more it felt as if her chest was expanding, filling with a love so powerful that she knew with certainty that the two scraps could do anything, be anything, and she would still love them.

Yanking her head back, the vision was swallowed into darkness. Sandstorm panted, groaning in pain. Her body felt sore, as if she had been crushed beneath the Moonstone.

Brindleface was padding away by the time she got her bearings. She yearned to call out for her but knew it was pointless. Brindleface walked a different path from her now. She would simply have to wait until they crossed once more.

A kit, nearly six moons but not quite, passed Brindleface as she disappeared back into the ranks of Starclan.

His tail and head were held high and he trotted happily towards her.

Sandstorms chest clenched tight, “Snowkit.” She mewed mournfully. The kit had died nearly seven moons ago, carried off by a hawk after the devastating fire had left the camp exposed.

He had been born deaf and could not hear the calls of his clanmates as they rushed to save him.

Sandstorm herself had leap to try and snag a claw in his fur, but she had missed. “I should’ve been faster, I’m sorry.” She mewed to him, hoping that in Starclans care, the kit may find some way to understand her even without hearing her.

Snowkit blinked star-bright blue eyes at her, smiling gently and reared up to touch his nose to hers.

At his touch, giddiness flooded Sandstorms chest. She laughed loudly, feeling a contented, warm, feeling wash over her until she knew none of the regret or sadness that had been on her shoulders only moments before.

When she opened her eyes, Snowkit was smiling at her, “ _S’all right!_ ” He mewed cheerfully, padding back to sit beside a brown tabby with white flecks, who wrapped her tail around him, and a cream tom with a white chest, who crouched over a small gray and white kit.

Sandstorm thanked her stars for having two easy lives but knew her luck had run out as a gleaming tabby slipped from the crowd.

“Silverstream.” She greeted, her voice tight. The two had never been friends, and Sandstorm had resented the rift that the tabby had caused between her and Graystripe as they struggled to uncover the murderous plot in Thunderclan.

But Silverstreams eyes held no hostility towards her as she touched her nose to her head, “With this life, I give you trust.” She mewed.

As the words left her mouth, she found herself looking down at Silverstream on the day of her death once more. Her voice was weak and small when she brushed her muzzle close to Sandstorms ear.

“ _Keep them with him._ ” The she-cats voice was barely a whisper, “ _I trust only him to raise them._ ”

“ _I promise._ ”

As soon as the last words were spoke, the vision shifted and she saw only joy as Graystripe slept in a nest, curled around two tiny kits.

To her surprise, Yellowfang stood before her when she opened her eyes. She and the elder had never been close, they had barely even spoke.

However, it had been Sandstorm to lap her head in her final moments. There seemed to be much the elder had wanted to say but in the end, she had only sighed as if the wrong cat had appeared, and told Sandstorm to thank Bluestar for allowing her to live in Thunderclan.

Now she stood before her once more, strong and healthy with no wheeze of smoke-burned lungs on her breath as she touched her nose to Sandstorms.

“With this life, I give you resilience.” She mewed, “May you always have the strength to make the hardest decisions for you clan, even at your own cost.”

Sandstorms mind whirled. She saw a tiny kit, mewling up at her with a face twisted by hate before their eyes suddenly opened, becoming filmed with blind blue as they spit up red foam.

Twisting, she found herself in Thunderclan, watching with a hollow feeling in her belly as a shadow padded away from her and took all of the color with it.

Lastly she saw flames, a deafening roaring filled her ears, and she knew nothing more.

Gasping, she tasted smoke on her tongue. Her sixth life had struck her like Yellowfang’s own. In quick moments, painful memories, and over in a flash of blinding flame.

The molly was padding away from her, brushing againt the next cat.

Grief nearly swept Sandstorm off her paws. Bluestar walked towards her, her gait peaceful and graceful as Sandstorm often imagined it had been in the mollys youth.

With a warm smile and kind eyes, the leader gently touched her nose to Sandstorms.

“In my final days, I forgot what my dear friend had given me when I stood in your place.” The old leader whispered, “It was a dark place, one you’re better than, so I grant you the gift I was given all those moons ago. With this life, I give you hope.”

Unlike the others, this life was not reminiscent of the givers own. Sandstorm stood in quiet darkness, her eyes locked upon a point of light so far yet not unreachable.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, swaying in the void, but eventually she returned to herself with a small sigh.

Redtail stood before her, his face stretched by a small grin.

“Father!” Sandstorm grinned at him, “Are you well? Are you happy?” She hoped she had made him proud by avenging him.

Redtails face twitched, briefly darkening. Without answering, he touched his nose to hers, “Dark times are coming, my daughter.” He whispered, “You will need to face them at the side of those you despise, but you cannot with your mind as set as stone. So with this life, I give you understanding.”

Her vision darkened and swayed until she found herself in the Thunderclan forest. Looking around, Sandstorm realize her fur was no longer it’s normal pale ginger, but a mix of red, orange, and white. Stars sparkled at her paws, twinkling with every step.

Sunlight streamed onto the forest floor from between billowing leaves, casting dapples of light everywhere.

As Sandstorm studied the forest around her, she began to wonder what this life’s purpose was, there was nothing to understand here.

Suddenly, a scream of pain split the quiet air.

Sandstorm jerked her head up in shock. Her paws, Redtails paws, raced across the ground until she turned a bend and found herself between the roots of a massive oak.

A sharp gasp escaped her and she felt herself grow ill.

Firepool, who couldn’t have been more than an apprentice at this time, scrabbled at the ground.

Sobs escaped her mouth as she kicked out with her hindlegs, trying to claw at a massive tortoiseshell who held her down with one paw, her fangs gripping one of Firepools hindpaws as she shoved a fox fang onto it.

“Who is that?” Sandstorm whispered, horrified. She had always thought, like the clan, that Firepool herself had found and hollowed out the reinforcements she wore on her paws.

Again her vision warped and she found herself in the medicine den, reaching out a paw as she desperately tried to run it down Firepools pelt, to being her some comfort.

Yanking Redtails paw back, Sandstorm sneered. 

The massive tortoiseshell from before was in the den and Sandstorm began to wonder if, like Redtail, the molly was dead. But why did she have no stars? And why had she treated Firepool so harshly?

There was no harshness in her face now. It was soft and sweet as she leaned down, pressing her muzzle into Firepools throat.

Sandstorm realized, with a pang, that the tiny molly had her head thrown back in a silent, agonized, wail. Her body trembled with the force of it and her now two eyes were squeezed shut.

Just beyond her lay the broken body of Lynxkit.

With a gasp, she was freed from the vision. She stood in Starclan once more, with Redtail in front of her. Checking her paws, she was relieved to find she was back in her own body.

“Who was that tortoiseshell?” She mewed at once, twitching her ears. She had never seen the molly before but she had apparently been following Firepool for many moons.

Redtails gaze darkened, “Your sister drank from a poisoned stream many seasons ago.” He mewed mournfully, “She’s suffered greatly for it, and the damage done will never leave.”

Sandstorm snarled, “You expect me to feel pity for her?” She growled, “She worked with your murderer! She made her own choice!”

“The only one she ever got.” Redtail mewed dryly, with a cold glance back into the ranks of Starclan.

Finally, he turned to pad away, tossing parting words over his shoulder, “Understand, Sandstorm. No kit is born with the intent to destroy and no one is confined to their path once they step paw onto it.”

Scoffing, Sandstorm looked away but, deep in her mind, she could not quite push away the scream she’d heard in her vision.

Looking up once more, she saw the last cat padding towards her and let out a small gasp, her heart nearly skipping a beat.

The Starclan cats stepped aside and looked away from the small, slim, black tom padding through the crowd.

No stars sparkled on his pelt and a barrage of jagged wounds covered his face and throat but Sandstorm knew him well.

“Ravenpaw.” She mewed thickly, her paws trembling. Behind her, she heard Brackenfur take in a sharp breath.

The tom smiled, despite the horrific disfigurement to his face. Sandstorm felt ill as he gazed at her with black, eyeless, sockets.

“Why are you not with Starclan?” She asked him as he padded to touch his nose to her head. They weren’t looking at him, some had even turned away. She flinched as a drop of blood fell onto her head from his muzzle.

 _”Redtail can keep his life, I’ll never forgive that monster!”_ She thought, blinking sorrowfully up at her friend.

Ravenpaw sighed out, his nose bubbling, “They do not want me but they have allowed me here, for this moment, to grant you your final life.” He mewed softly.

“We avenged you!” Sandstorm burst out, “Firepool was exiled, she’ll never step paw in Thunderclan again.”

Even if Starclan would not take him, she hoped he would have some peace, knowing that the treacherous she-cat had finally gotten her due.

Ravenpaw tilted his head a bit, “Firepool may have thrown that final blow but it was not her alone who killed me.” He mewed at last.

Once more, he touched his nose to her head before she could respond, “With this life, I give you clarity.”

Peace flowed over Sandstorm. There was no flash to Ravenpaws life, there was only the brief stab of terror and rage before it was overtaken by curiosity and horror then, slowly, it faded back to the peaceful acceptance.

Ravenpaw was padding away towards a cloud of thick fog as she opened her eyes but Sandstorm couldn’t let him leave so quickly, not without knowing she’d done right by him.

“Are you happy?” She called out to him, “Graystripe and I did our best for you!”

Ravenpaw turned back briefly, raking his sockets over the ranks of the starry ancestors who refused him before looking back at her.

“You did.” He mewed solemnly, “But you are fighting an enemy who has since walked away from the fight.”

With that, the tom vanished into the fog.

Sandstorms tail dropped sadly and she wondered for a moment if that would be the last time she ever saw her foster-brother and friend.

From the ranks of Starclan, a piece of the night sky stepped forward, smiling at her warmly.

“I hail you by your new name, Sandstar,” The Judge announced. “Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants to you the guardianship of Thunderclan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor the traditions of your ancestors and the warrior code; live each life with grace and nobility.”

“Sandstar, Sandstar, Sandstar!” The endless rows of cats began to shout her name, their voices gleeful and welcoming.

Despite her sourness at Ravenpaws fate, Sandstar couldn’t help but beam as she saw, for the last time, her parents cheering for her new name.

Slowly, she began to see through the rows of Starclan until, with a flash of light, her vision winked out.

She awoke to Brackenfur shaking her. Infront of her nose lay the Moonstone, no more than a dull lump of rock in the dawn light.

As per tradition, she and Brackenfur remained painfully quiet as they padded from the cavern.

It was only when they sat out in the chilly morning air, overlooking the rolling moor, that Brackenfur spoke. He looked at her, his face carefully blank.

“So she really did kill that tom?”

“Mmhm.” Sandstar murmured, “Back when you were still a kit, I believe. She told me once, that she hadn’t meant to but you can never trust her.”

Brackenfur looked away, his eyes half-lidded with what she thought was sadness before he sighed, “It shouldn’t be so hard to let go of someone I didn’t even know.”

“None of us knew her except Tigerstar,” Sandstar mewed comfortingly, pressing against him, “But we all still miss her, or some part of her.”

“Do you?”

Swallowing a bit, Sandstar thought about it. She hadn’t considered the Shadowclan deputy her sister in moons but, deep down, she sometimes looked into the medicine den expecting to see a flash of ginger.

“I miss parts of her.” She mewed at last, “She became someone different but I remember staying up and annoying Brindleface with her, and dreaming about our warrior names.”

Brackenfur huffed, his eyes glazed, “It all goes back to that stupid dream of hers!” He spat, “Warriors, warriors, warriors. That’s all she wanted!”

Sandstar could feel the hurt radiating from him. Leaning close once more, she remembered Redtails words to her.

“I suppose we should’ve given it to her then.” She mewed bitterly, “Maybe things would’ve been different, I don’t know.”

“We won’t ever know.” She heard him murmur. He refused to look at her, he kept his back towards her and stared deep into the distance.

“C’mon.” He mewed at last, “We should get back to the clan.”

Sandstar nodded but deep within her mind, as she pushed all thoughts of Firepool away, she remembered Redtails other words.

“What do you think is coming? Have you any dreams?” She asked Brackenfur.

He shook his head, “I don’t know what that tom was talking about.” He replied, “Starclan has not shared with me in moons.”

Sandstar sighed out a long breath at that and simply looked to the forest as the two began their long journey home as new partners.

She hoped the dark times had light in the end.


End file.
